You can't all of a sudden go to sleep one night and wake up Martha Stewart. It's bit by bit by bit.

I can't believe anyone would voluntarily run 26 miles. Sometimes I sit on the couch cross-legged because I don't feel like walking to the bathroom.

As I examine my life through this book, I can't help but wonder if my mother was right. Maybe I really was what I ate. And maybe if she'd let me eat a little more sugar, I'd have come out sweeter.

As a reader, I notice political views regardless of whether or not the book is fiction. What annoys me is when said views do nothing to advance the narrative.

When I hug her, I notice she's still wearing yesterday's false eyelashes. Mom? You know those come off with a little makeup remover and a cotton pad?" I'm not taking them off." Why not?" I spent $180 on that makeup job and I refuse to wash my face until I get my money's worth.

I've determined the ideal job for me is one where I can write clever essays about my life and my employer will give me enough money not only to live a comfortable existence, but also to buy many, many new pairs of shoes.

Despite my best efforts, I'm not quite perfect. Let's just say I'm like one of those Hopi blankets where they leave a tiny flaw so as to not affront the Lord.